Stages of Disintegration
by beezyland
Summary: Death is a definitive end, but for the left behind, it can be the start of a downward descent into the dark, fueled by pain, anger and guilt. Max Spencer died in a car accident after rejecting Payson and kissing Austin. His final words: "Lauren, stop!" AU
1. Prince Charming is Dead

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It's probably more accurate to say this fandom owns me.

A/N: Before I formatted this, I had "I wrote this while heavily medicated" as the author's note and, yes, this is true. I just think that if the show didn't plan on bring Max back for season 3 (though, in their defense, they didn't even know if they were getting a season 3 at that point) then they should have just killed him off and showed the impact his death undoubtedly has on the other characters. Then I ended up with what I've been calling my #EmoBunny. I've come pretty attached to this Emo 'Verse so I hope y'all like it!

Warning: Dark; Vulgar language; Goes from Canon to AU pretty fast

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><p><strong>-BB-<strong>

_"All these people I sort of knew and sort of didn't, and all of them disintegrating..." – John Green [Looking for Alaska] _

**-BB-**

**Stages of Disintegration**

_Ch. 1 Prince Charming is Dead _

It was a pity party that ended in tragedy. She cried and bitched and moaned and he stuttered and slurred and the other car came out of nowhere. Then it was just blinding light and nothingness. What a pretty picture they must have made in the stillness post-crash. Her in her silk dress and him in his satin suit, blood mixed with blonde, crimson against platinum, glittering shards of glass scattered everywhere as if Cinderella and Prince Charming never made it to the reception.

Of course, Cinderella was pure and sweet and fictitious. Lauren Tanner is not. She's more an evil stepsister, at one point almost Emily Kmetko's evil sister. Lauren is rotten and sour and real enough to bleed and bruise.

The moment she wakes up in the hospital nothing hurts, but everything is foggy, halfway between Colorado and some far away fairytale world. The pain doesn't hit until she starts asking for him. Her voice is more hoarse than usual. Her dry throat burns when she tries to force the words out, but she has to. She has to know.

"Wh—where...where's M—Max?"

It takes so much out of her to ask and the nurse barely even hears. The woman in scrubs ignores the question, goes on checking her vitals or whatever it is they routinely do. She feels the anger hit her next. Lauren Tanner isn't someone to be ignored. She practically screams her question, this time grabbing the attention she so often demands, but in response the nurse just tells her to settle down. The woman states the obvious and never gives Lauren what she really wants, which makes her even angrier.

When she starts thrashing in her bed, the pain becomes more apparent. In every one of her joints, all down the left side of her body and her neck and back. Some others in identical scrubs flood into the room to restrain her as the tears pool in her eyes and blur her vision. Lauren doesn't even see the needle as it slides beneath her skin and the sedative mixes in with the blood she's yet to bleed. Slowly, the world goes out of focus until she embraces the nothingness yet again.

Lauren slips back into the nothingness as easy as Cinderella fit those glass slippers.

…

_Shocking_ is a pretty fucking big understatement. It's up there at the top with Austin discovering the depth of his baby sister's disease. This new one though, Max kissing him with scotch-laced lips that burned, Austin still doesn't know what to make of it. He can't even begin to process his last conversation with Max. Honestly, a strong part of Austin doesn't want to think about it _ever._

All he wants is a beer when he gets back to the lake house. Austin didn't have a drop at the sendoff party, being among NGO suits and arguably, most importantly, Kaylie's parents. He only had enough time to kick off his shoes before the call came in. Austin had already been annoyed (and a little worried) when Max went to grab his jacket and never came back, but figured he went off with someone else—Lauren Tanner maybe. Turns out, Austin's theory was correct, but it involved a car wreck instead of a condom.

How could Max have been so stupid? To be drinking and then get into a car? That isn't even just making bad decisions. That's plain and simple stupidity. Boy is that little bitch going to hear it when Austin sees him.

But the stupid hospital won't let him.

So. Stupid.

"You don't understand. _I_ don't understand!" Austin shouts, slamming a fist down again the counter at the reception desk. "You call me down here, but now you won't tell me anything because I'm not family? He doesn't have any immediate family! He isn't from here! He's only been living here a couple months now. I'm his roommate. I'm the closest thing to family! That's bullshit!"

"Sir, you need to calm down."

Before he can go off on a rampage, Austin feels Kaylie's little hands on his arm, pulling him away from the stressed young woman, possibly a clueless intern. Kaylie guides him to some empty seats in the designated waiting area.

_Be cool, Tucker. Be cool_, he tells himself. Anger, that sneaky son of a bitch, it sits on his chest and wraps it's slimy hands around his neck, making it harder and harder to breathe. Austin reminds himself over and over again, concentrate on Kaylie and the feel of her touch and the soft brown of her eyes. She has this calming affect on him and it's nice. The only other person who can talk him down like this is his sister.

"I'm sorry I lost my cool a little there," he says, loudly exhaling. "You shouldn't have had to see me act like that." Austin looks from side to side with a particular blonde in mind. "I'm glad Payson wasn't around to see that. Where'd she go anyways?"

"It's fine. You have a right to be upset. Your best friend was just in a car crash," Kaylie says, taking his hand and lacing their fingers. She's so focused on him and he wants to focus on her, but keeps his head lowered, thinking about Max instead. "I'm sure everything's fine. I'm sure they're both fine."

He wants to believe her, but he doesn't.

"Thank you, Kaylie," he says anyways. Austin tries to give her something that resembles a smile because it's what she deserves, but by her reaction, the saddest smile in the world, he fails. "For being here. I know you came down here for Lauren, but…"

"For you? Anytime," she tells him, squeezes his hand.

Kaylie leans in to kiss him and Austin moves to make sure she only catches his cheek. Austin is the type of guy who doesn't mind a little lip locking, usually kisses two or three of his arm candy girls for the cameras and all within a twenty-four hour time period. However, even Austin knows there's something deeply disturbing about the very idea of kissing Kaylie with the taste of Max still on his lips.

…

Nicky Russo isn't the same gymnast he used to be. He used to be silent and fade into the background all too easily. Now he's better, faster and stronger. Getting out of Colorado seems to have been the best move for him. Now there's only one week till Worlds. One week until he gets to prove his worth to all the people who never noticed him and those who rejected him, but mostly for himself. One week till redemption in Rio and Nicky's confident it's finally his turn to shine.

He does realize how isolated he is, living alone in a one-bedroom apartment in Dallas, far from his family, without friends, going back and forth between his apartment and the gym day after day, but he never lets it get to him. Nicky's convinced having detailed, carefully planned goals, short-term ones that lead to long-term ones, keeps him busy. When you're busy there's no time for socialization. Aiming to be a Olympic gold medalist, Nicky doesn't have time to feel lonely or have feelings in general, really.

When his phone rings, Nicky thinks it's his manager or maybe his coach or (God forbid) his father. Those are the only people who ever really call him. That's why it's such a shock when the name that flashes across the screen is _Kelly Parker_.

Nicky reaches for it, but then retracts. Reaches out again, reconsiders again. He just can't wrap his mind around it. What could she possibly want from him?

From when he trained in Denver, Nicky remembers a handful of encounters with Kelly Parker. She wasn't as bad as the stories, but only because she didn't see him as a threat. If Nicky were a girl, it'd be a different story entirely. Kelly Parker is just a puppet with a pretty face. Ellen Beals has a few strings wrapped around her fingers, but the true puppet master is her manager and mother who happen to be the same monster. Marty made a valiant effort to cut those strings. Knowing good ol' Marty, he probably still is trying to free her, but seldom does a creature turn against its maker.

When his curiosity gets the better of him, Nicky presses a button and answers the call with a cold, "I think you have the wrong number."

Sniffle. Scowl. Sniffle. "Do you always answer the phone like that or is it a customized greeting just for me?" Kelly snaps. "Russo, don't even pretend you don't know who I am."

Nicky's shoulders drop before he even realizes he'd been squaring them. She sounds upset, like she's been crying. He may not exactly trust her or like her, but Nicky isn't completely heartless.

"It's late." His voice softens and he doesn't know why, but he really does hope she can tell. "What's this about?"

Pause. Deep breath. She replies, "Call it me not being a horrible person for once."

Still confused, Nicky asks, "What are you talking about?"

"It's about your cousin, Max," Kelly says. "There was a car accident. He…he didn't make it."

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><p><span>AN: What'd you think? Whose reaction/journey are you most excited to see? I know my stories tend to get messy, but this is going to be _dark_ and hopefully in some way beautiful. Stick with me. I'm about to take these characters to places ABC Family wouldn't even dream of. Not even in their nightmares.

ALSO: I made a formspring because I know y'all want to ask me random stuff and hear my even more random answers. Get your anonymous ask on. Link on my profile.

Xoxo


	2. Sleep, Sleeping Beauty, Sleep

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It's probably more accurate to say this fandom owns me.

A/N: From here on out, this is MY WORLD. So I'm going to be tweaking facts from the show so I can take the story in the direction I want it to go.

Warning: Dark; Language; AU

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><p><strong>-BB-<strong>

**Stages of Disintegration **

**Ch. 2**

It's a hard job (telling the gym about Max) but someone has to do it (Sasha).

There's already been chatter around the Rock, specifically when Austin, Max and Lauren fail to show up to practice Monday morning, which is slated as their toughest week, the week leading up to leaving for Worlds. Payson hasn't talked to anyone since she got the news last night. Her mom, her dad and even her sister have tried, but it's like her ability to speak left her around the same time Max did.

Kaylie casts her these looks of sympathy because that's as close as she comes. She doesn't understand. Kaylie Cruz couldn't possibly understand what it's like to be rejected by a boy and then being told that he's dead. For the rest of the weekend, she couldn't believe it. Her mind couldn't comprehend that when she walked in through the doors of the Rock that Max and his sweet smile and his camera wouldn't be there to greet her and call her gorgeous. He's just gone.

Summer asks all of them to gather at the front and already there's speculation as to what it could be about. Sasha gets them all together like this when he's about to give them an assignment, usually a fun one like the Open House routines, but not this time. The dread is in the way Sasha sighs and rubs his face and the heaviness in every step he takes towards the front of the cluster of gymnasts and trainers.

Sasha Belov is everything a man should be, shouldering the devastation of his people, standing up and bracing reality when no one else wants to. He licks his lips and gathers his thoughts before he begins. Though he is clearly the strong and silent type, with all the speeches he's given, pep talks right before competitions, Sasha Belov is a master of words. From the sickly look on his face, he'd much rather remain silent, but now he has to step up and deliver the message.

"I regret but am obligated to inform you that we lost one of our own this past weekend. Max Spencer."

There's a gasp somewhere in the crowd and everyone around her stirs uncomfortably at the news. Payson on the other hand focuses on her coach because if he can stand in front of everyone and be that strong then so can she.

"Max wasn't with us here at the Rock very long," Sasha continues, "but the time he did spend here, he was a hard worker, a great addition and presence and I know he made some very meaningful connections with a lot of you here. His family has just been notified and I'll be sure to keep you all updated on where and who to contact if any of you would like to pay your respects. Take the time you need, just remember what we're here to do and what Max would have wanted. That's all."

Sasha's eyes glaze over as he quickly steps down, not even waiting to answer questions or even assess the reactions around the room. Death touches everyone, even the gods.

It isn't like anyone tries to ask questions, they can't. The room is just pure, unaltered silence in a room where's the constant sound of the different apparatus in use, hands against bars, feet against mats. No gymnastics in a space meant for gymnastics and ongoing activity. All that remains is simple, unquestioned silence.

The first one to make a sound, a sob, is one of the trainers, a woman in her mid-thirties who worked extensively with Max. Next to her, a sniffle comes from a giant of a man, also someone who was always seen kicking Max's ass whenever he was caught fiddling with his camera instead of working on his floor routine. Payson understands their mourning, but then there are these others, people who barely even knew Max, all crumbling to pieces. What right do they have? What right does she?

Just like that, Payson's over it. Kaylie's hand has been resting on her shoulder the entire time and Payson presses her hand over Kaylie's before shoving it away. She's had enough of this. She needs to go back to something familiar and controlled. She needs gymnastics.

"Payson!" Kaylie shouts after her. Ignored.

That's how the rest of the day goes for her. Someone reaches out to her and they're ignored. Someone sympathizes with her and they're ignored. Someone asks her something completely unrelated to Max or her emotional state and they're too ignored. A week to Worlds. Payson can't afford to fall apart right now. It doesn't work with her life plan.

By the end of the day, everyone is almost afraid to approach her except one—Kim.

"Payson," she calls out to her daughter currently on the beam. Everyone else breaks for lunch, but not Payson. "You need to eat something."

"I had an apple during the last break," she replies. "I'm fine, mom."

"At least you're talking now. That's a good sign," Kim muses more to herself than her daughter. "So after dinner tonight I was thinking you can go over to check on Austin, drop off some food maybe and see how he's handling things."

At the request, Payson makes a misstep, loses her balance and ends up jumping off the beam. She angrily turns to her mom, but Payson doesn't say anything. She knows better than to take her anger and her pain out on someone else, especially her mother. She was raised better than that and is better.

"Mom, I can't."

"Payson, he just lost his best friend and he's all alone out there…"

She shakes her head hard. The tears come fast and Payson hates that. "I can't. I won't. If that's all, I really need to nail this routine."

There really is no rush. After all, there's no Lauren to hog the beam.

Kim doesn't argue, but her concern is so strong Payson can feel it all around her. Amongst all the ill feelings, it's nice to have someone care. That's something Max won't feel ever again.

…

Lauren doesn't know anything, just that she has to deliver a pizza. It's light out and something about the sky is insanely bright. With a pizza box balanced on her hand, she steps into the building in front of her, something of a hospital. The floor is black and white, checkered, fucking ugly. It makes her dizzy just having to look at it. Lauren staggers forward, trying to escape the ugly of the floor, but with every step, the tile just continues on and on.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flash and a dark figure duck into the next room. _Max_.

She follows, but there's no Max. It's a room of faces that seem familiar, but she can't specifically identify any of them. All she knows is none of them are Max. They're all sitting in a circle like it's a fucking support group while a woman stands upfront—Summer. Her lips are moving, hands swinging, no doubt preaching, but Lauren doesn't hear words. She steps into the room and sets the pizza down in the center of the human circle. Suddenly, Summer stops talking and turns to Lauren with a frightened expression. The room grows darker and darker, all the people move in closer and closer.

Someone dumps water over her head (holy water, no doubt) and she gasps even though she doesn't feel it. Summer is shouting at her, but Lauren is still lost to what the woman is trying to say. Then, flashes come at her from all directions and she finally sees Max standing right behind Summer, a blank expression on his face with red streaks across his cheeks. She suspects blood.

Then, she wakes up.

Her thoughts are racing, neither relaxed nor rested. When her eyes dare open, everything is so bright, too bright. Lauren winces and turns back to the dark, the comfort the nothingness provides. It appeals to her more than the harsh burn of the light—a reoccurring theme in her life. Before she slips back under, a voice calls her back.

"Lauren…Lauren, are you awake?"

"Daddy?"

She forces her eyes open and finds her father's tired face. Poor Steve. All he's ever wanted was happiness and perfection and the best for his daughter. He's a chaser of an impossible dream.

"Thank God you're awake. Lauren, do you know where you are?"

A slow glance around reveals sterile white walls and uncomfortable sheets of an elevated bed. A plastic band scrapes the delicate skin of her wrist when she shifts ever so slightly.

"Hospital," she says. "D—Daddy, where's Max?"

"Lauren," a soothing, female voice coos.

Summer, the preacher from her fucked up dream, the woman who distinctly told Lauren and Steve that she wants nothing to do with them, walks around the side of her bed and tries to take her hand. She wants to be happy that Summer went back on her word and showed up when needed. But she can't. Lauren can't let herself roll over like a stupid dog and hope Summer will rub her belly just to be left in tears when Summer leaves them. Lauren won't do that to herself. She chooses anger instead.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Summer inaudibly gasps. "Lauren—"

"I don't want her in here," Lauren says coldly. "Get out. I don't need your pity or your Jesus made you to do it guilt trip so get out! You talk all this shit about your religion and acceptance and yet my dad and me aren't good enough for you. Well, the feeling's mutual. I don't want to see you ever again."

Frowning, Steve reaches a hand out to her. "Lauren, honey—"

"It's okay, Steve," Summer says gently. "I'll go."

"Good," Lauren says expectantly. She leans back in her bed and in the absence of conversation, Lauren feels so winded after saying so much after sleeping God knows how long. Pushing through the feeling, she moves her hand closer towards her father's and when Steve notices, he takes her hand. "Dad, don't worry about me. I feel fine. Where's Max? Is he okay? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"It's okay. All that matters to me is that you're okay," Steve assures her. He rubs her hand and tries his best to hold himself together. "About Max…Lauren, you need to understand that the paramedics on scene did all they could and they rushed him back here, but he…he was killed in the accident. I'm sorry, but he passed away."

Going completely limp, Lauren sinks even further back in the bed. The silence that follows makes her ears ring and a single tear breaks the brim of her eye and falls. Steve starts assuring her that it wasn't her fault even if she was behind the wheel of the car, but his words don't mean shit, just like Summer in that weird dream. All of a sudden, Lauren feels so far away from her father, from everything.

Only one command registers in her head—scream. She screams her head off and starts flailing in her bed, finally noticing the wires connected to her and how badly her legs and arms and head hurt when she thrashes around. Steve tries to calm her, but when he fails, people in scrubs enter her room all over again. They push Steve aside, grab hold of her, try to control her. When she doesn't give up on her screaming, the needle comes out yet again and it sends her straight back into the dark.

Her body goes lifelessly flops against the mattress, blonde tresses fanning out across the pillow. Steve takes a shaky breath with tears in his eyes, staring at his daughter in this sedated state. Once the nurses leave the room, Summer sneaks back in, takes a few steps and lays her hand on Steve's shoulder.

"You can't just have them stick her with a needle every time she tries to wake up. She isn't Sleeping Beauty," Summer says. "Steve, she has to wake up."

He doesn't even acknowledge that she spoke, instead squeezing Lauren's hand.

"I'll handle it," Steve says, clearing his throat. He shakes his shoulder, a clear sign for Summer to take her hand off of him. He doesn't even look at his former love as he hisses, "She's my daughter, Summer. She isn't yours."

…

Setting this up felt like a really good idea up until he actually dragged his ass to Boulder to carry through. Standing outside little café, Nicky peers into the glass window and sees Kelly Parker sitting at one of the tables inside. She doesn't seem to change no matter how many months passes since the last time he's seen her and Nicky isn't really sure if that's a good thing or a bad one.

He was supposed to meet her ten minutes ago and he notices the way she keeps glancing over at the door, impatient as always. Nicky's only been standing outside for a few minutes now, but purposefully took his time just to make her sweat just a little. Eventually, Nicky shoves past the door, making the little bell jingle overhead. Kelly spots him immediately and almost looks like she's about to stand to greet him, but ultimately decides to remain in her seat. It isn't like they're close or anything so it isn't like he expects it.

Instead of immediately meeting her, Nicky goes up to the counter to grab a cup of coffee. After talking to Kelly on the phone, he called his father, who then confirmed the news. Nicky booked the next flight out and now here he is, practically depending on caffeine to keep him upright. Once he has a paper cup of black coffee in hand and pays the woman behind the register, Nicky slowly makes his way over to where Kelly is.

"Um, hey," he says.

"Hey Nick," Kelly says in return. Her voice is softer than the one he remembers screaming at him to get out of her way at DE. Hearing her call him that—_Nick_—he's certain it's the first time in a really long time. "So, um, how're you holding up?"

Sliding into the chair across the table from her, Nicky shrugs his shoulder. He takes a sip of his cup before setting it down on the table. Russo men aren't exactly known for their conversational skills.

"I didn't think I'd be back here so soon and not for this, that's for sure," Nicky replies. He's always been the cold, robotic type, especially towards her and now is no exception. "My dad told me Lauren Tanner was driving."

With her fingers wrapped around the mug of tea set in front of her, Kelly tells him all about the sendoff party and digs back even further to Lauren's relentless quest for Max Spencer's affection and the competition between her and Payson Keeler. Nicky's brows rise in surprise and Kelly relays what she overheard at the hospital when Kaylie and Payson were talking about how Payson told Max that she loved him, obviously premature and stupid. Digesting all this information, Nicky slumps back in his chair.

"Max stringing along two girls? That doesn't make any sense."

"He's a guy," Kelly says like that's an explanation enough. "They let him so he did."

She stares down at tea, sliding the pads of her fingers along the string dangling over the rim. That sounds so much like something her mother would say, probably about her father or men in general. The scary part is she looks like she believes it.

"Were you close to my cousin?"

Kelly scoffs. "The last time I talked to Max Spencer like, for real, was in Denver, right after the exhibition. I told him that he was making a huge mistake, choosing to train at the Rock instead of Denver Elite. Do you know what he said?" Nicky doesn't even try to guess. He isn't the type. "He said _you couldn't control Nicky, Kelly Parker. What makes you think you can control me_?"

That sounds like Max, especially with a playful grin on his face, lifting his camera to snap a picture and capture the moment, Kelly Parker with her jaw undoubtedly dropped and eyes on fire.

"Maybe he should have listened to you," Nicky says with a sigh, slicking his fingers through his messy dark hair. "If he trained at Denver Elite like he was supposed to then none of this would have happened."

Kelly shakes her head. "There's no use thinking like that. You can't change what happened."

But he could have. If Nicky didn't run off to Dallas and stayed in Denver then Max wouldn't have even considered training at the Rock. That was the plan. The plan was for them to train together, for Nicky to keep an eye on Max and keep him out the same kind of trouble Max encountered at his last gym. Nicky knows for a fact that he could have made a difference, but, no, he chose the selfish route, put his own gymnastics first and this is what happened.

"Are you alright?" Kelly asks.

Blinking, separating himself from his thoughts, Nicky takes another sip of his coffee. When he sees the way she's looking at him, Nicky quickly looks away. "Yeah, so, if you weren't that close to Max then why'd you sound so upset when you called me? Like you've been crying or something."

"Oh, _that_." Kelly's face takes on this irritable quality, one he remembers so fondly from the days where they'd be around each other daily. "Not my best night. I was already upset about something else. Then, hearing about Max, icing," Kelly explains without really explaining. "Whatever. I'm over it. Who needs friends anyways, right?"

His ears perk. "Who were you trying to be friends with?"

"Forget it."

"A Rock girl?" he guesses.

"_The _Rock girl—Kaylie Cruz," she replies. Just at the name of his old crush, Nicky stirs uncomfortably in his seat and stares at his coffee. "But not that it matters. She called me a horrible person, which I can't exactly argue with. The one time I go against my mom and I still end up sabotaging yet another potential friendship. Story of my life." It turns quiet between them and when Nicky looks up, he catches her eyes. "We were, weren't we, Nick? Almost friends."

"Sure," he answers. "When we were kids, yeah, I'd say we were. Up until you started up your totalitarian regime and turned into a major bitch."

"I was playing smart," she says defensively. "Just like how you turned into a cocky asshole."

She glares and he turns away. This is why he chooses not to recognize that time even existed, when their parents would saddle them together, telling them to run along and play while the adults sat around, sipping wine and talking about their children's future accomplishments. Then Nicky's mom passed away and Kelly's dad divorced her mom, turning Sheila into the bitter hurricane she is today.

"You know, my dad hasn't spoken to Max's parents in years and now we're having one big family reunion because of this. My aunt is hysterical. My uncle wants to sue. It wouldn't surprise me if he asked your dad…" Nicky sees the way she lets her face slip just a little at the mention of her estranged father. "Just, don't be surprised if he comes back around."

"I don't have time to deal with him," Kelly says coldly. "Worlds is in less than a week."

"Yeah, well, how do you think I feel? Before I leave for Rio I have to put my cousin in the dirt." When he realizes his hands are shaking, Nicky has to let go of the cup of coffee; afraid he'd crush it and make an even bigger mess of things.

"You're right. That sucks," she says. "I'm sorry." Those words. Nicky's gaze shoots up to her, so quickly that Kelly almost looks frightened when she sees him watching her. Nicky stares until she's good and uncomfortable, but it's like she's a puzzle he for the life of him can't figure out. "What? Stare much, Russo?"

"I can't help it," he says. "There's something different about you…"

Kelly tries to play it off with a scowl, looking down at her tea, and the universe seems to work with her because his phone starts to buzz. Nicky fishes it out and takes a moment to read the screen. "I gotta go. They want me there when they go to talk to Max's roommate."

"Austin Tucker."

"My favorite person in the world," Nicky says sarcastically, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "So, um, thanks, I guess, for catching me up on everything. I'm sure you had a lot of better things to do."

"I did," she says sharply. Not like he didn't expect that. "But this just felt like the right thing to do."

Her response and how sincere she looks (albeit embarrassed) floors him. Since when is Kelly Parker concerned with _the right thing to do_? Nicky would ask her, but then he feels his phone buzzing for a second time, probably another family obligation to fill or his coach, demanding to know why he just took off this close to Worlds.

"Alright. Later, Parks."

Nicky freezes when he realizes what he just called her. It's what he'd call her when they were kids. Nicky turns back to gage her reaction and he doesn't know what to make of it when all she does is roll her eyes and smile this sad, beautiful smile. The more he thinks about it, though, in that regard, she hasn't changed at all. Her smile has always been that way, just as sad as it is beautiful.

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><p><span>AN: Thank you for all the reviews! I'm happy to see that people are just as excited about this story as I am! I don't know how often this will be updated or when, but bear with me! Next chapter we get to see the mess that is Austin Tucker and a look into Max's family. Fun stuff.

Review!

Xoxo


	3. Beauty Fears the Beast

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It's probably more accurate to say this fandom owns me.

A/N: My God was I in a bad mood this week. I made it work for me and poured all the negative energy I was feeling into this fic. Read on…

Warning: Dark; Language; AU

* * *

><p><strong>-BB-<strong>

**Stages of Disintegration **

**Ch. 3**

_Fuck_.

That's the first thing Austin thinks as he starts to regain consciousness.

The second: _Where the fuck am I?_

Sore. That's all he feels. There's more to it, but nothing he can let himself dwell on or even tap into. His muscles ache, maybe from the position he's in (twisted up like a pretzel on a kitchen floor) or maybe whatever happened last night (what _did_ happen last night?), Austin can't tell. Trying to move, the stiffness in his joints makes him feel like the Tin Man from _The (Wonderful) Wizard of Oz_. It's his mom's favorite movie; his sister's favorite book. Now, shit, it hits him how his family is going to take the news about Max.

Austin pushes the thought away. He has to. First things first: again, where the fuck is he?

Clinging to the kitchen counter, Austin pulls himself up off the ground, feeling the throbbing behind his forehead. His mouth is dry. Weird feeling. Every time he smacks his lips, it makes that strange sound and Austin grimaces. Tastes like ass. He suspects vodka as the culprit and _a lot_ of it. Half-open eyes take a gander at his surroundings—trashed. Must have been a party. How he got here, whom he came with—mysteries better left unsolved. Austin barely manages to stumble out the front door before is stomach squeezes in on itself and he pukes on the front lawn.

It's mostly liquid—_liquor_—and he chokes it out. His knees dig into the pavement, fingers curled around blades of perfect, green grass, tearing them from the ground. Once he's able to take a breath, Austin clears his throat and spits. Another wave comes and he can't control the horrific gurgling sounds that accompany the vomit. Then more spit. He closes his eyes and rides it out, feeling so much better. His eyes sting with tears like it always does when he barfs. He can't shed a single tear for Max, but a little morning after regurgitated regrets and he's ready to start bawling.

After washing out his mouth with the nearby garden hose and repeatedly wiping at his eyes, Austin spots Lolita parked across the street. He pats down his pockets and thank God he has his keys. He doesn't even question the who, what, where or when of last night, just gets on his motorcycle and drives off what appears to be a college campus.

Wearing his helmet and Kobalt shades, he flies down the streets on Lolita like a knight returning to his castle in full armor, riding only the best of beasts. His destination: the Rock. Austin figures he can grab a shower there, regroup and maybe get something to eat if he can stomach it. He feels like utter shit. He also feels he deserves it.

Austin doesn't get three steps into the Rock before Sasha makes a beeline for him, immediately dropping his conversation with Payson. Poor Keeler. She looks like a fucking ghost out there. Broken. _Heart_broken. If only she knew the truth. She's grieving over a love that wasn't true, a boy she barely even knew. It makes Austin wonder, if Max kept something that massive from Payson, what did Max keep from him?

"Austin." He gives Sasha a nod, wearing his Kobalt sunglasses even indoors. Not even trying to be cool. The lighting in the gym would just destroy him, he already knows. Too bad the Kobalt shades can't save him from the look on Sasha. What Austin really needs is an invisible cloak. "How've you been holding up?"

"Guh, y'know, good," Austin replies, disjointed, slow. He amazes himself that he drove all the way from CU to the Rock without getting into an accident of his own. Hell, Austin's amazed he's standing upright. Suddenly, he feels that weird feeling in the back of his throat, closing off his airway, but he tries his hardest to fight it down.

"Listen," Sasha says in a whisper. "I know you're going through a hard time right now. I see it. I expected it. My sympathies. I cannot even begin to imagine what you're feeling. You have every right to grieve, but for God's sake, Tucker, we have youngsters here and you look like you're still on a bender."

"Isn't that British slang for—"

"I'm well aware of the British slang, Austin, and you are well aware that isn't what I'm talking about," Sasha says, quick and deadly, but most of all, concerned. "I don't need any of our gymnasts seeing you like this. Even worse, the parents. You need to leave, take some time and pull yourself together. The next time you walk through those doors I expect you to be wearing a clean shirt, ready to get back to gymnastics, not smelling like the inside of a homeless alcoholic's cardboard box."

"You're a really sensitive guy, aren't you?" Austin says, daring to use sarcasm with Sasha. "My friend is dead. He's dead!" Austin takes a look around the Rock and faces are starting to stare. Kaylie and Payson included. "Don't you get it? Every minute you all spend in here, doing your precious training, Max he…" Austin's gaze turns steely and he purses his lips. "He goes colder and colder…"

"I understand that," Sasha says, reaching a hand out to Austin's shoulder. "But the world can't stop for death. And neither can you. You can't quit breathing just because Max has. He didn't have a choice. You do. Don't be stupid enough to throw it away. Imagine if Max could see you right now, what he'd think—"

"He'd think, _those assholes, forgotten all about me_," Austin says, ripping his shoulder away from Sasha's touch. Now he has everyone's attention. So long as he does, he might as well put on a show. "Not me. I can't forget." What his smile looked like, how his laugh sounded, that his lips tasted like whisky that night. "Every time I take a shot, it's in his name. And I always pour one out for him too. That's what we should be doing, Sasha, not this. We should be honoring him."

"Do you honestly believe what you're saying? Do you even hear yourself?" Sasha asks. He still keeps his voice at a hush, like they're still having a private conversation. Who's he kidding? This is the Rock. There's no such thing as privacy, with or without Lauren around. "Drinking in honor of your friend? Just sounds like a piss poor excuse to get drunk."

Austin takes a threatening step forward, not caring if he is the beloved Sasha Belov. All Austin sees is a douche bag with a clipboard. Before he can make a move, a hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him back. "Austin," Kim Keeler says soothingly, right at his side. "When's the last time you got some sleep? Eaten real food?"

The care laced with her words attacks his anger like white blood cells to an infectious disease—quick, protective. Gently, Austin explains, "I'd just really like to grab a few things from my locker, take a shower and I'll be out of here."

"And where do you plan on going after that?" Kim asks. She's such a mom, can't even help it.

"Home," Austin lies. That's about the last place he wants to be right now.

"Alright," Kim says. Her expression says she doesn't quite believe him, but she'll trust him anyways. "And while you're in the locker room, I'll see what I can rustle you up to eat."

"You really don't have to do that for me, ma'am," Austin says, only with the utmost respect. Just like his own mamma taught him.

"It's the least I could do," she says. Seeing all the curious stares, Kim loudly says, "And everyone else can go about their business and get back to work!" The gymnasts, coaches and trainers all scurry away. Kim then gives the fair-haired coach a pointed look. "Even you, coach Belov."

"I didn't mean to come off as, well, insensitive," Sasha says. And this is probably the closest to an apology he'll ever get out of Sasha Belov so Austin savors it. "I really am sorry about your loss, but having you here right now, in the state you're in, it puts everyone at risk, not necessarily one I'm willing to take as head coach."

Austin nods. "Understood. I'll hit the locker room and be on my way."

Sasha nods and starts to back away. Kim walks with Austin towards the locker room, her hand still on his shoulder, but in a comforting way, not like Sasha or that time when he was ten, got caught stealing candy and the mall cop escorted him to the office to call his parents. Kim isn't like that at all. A feather of a touch. She's there and he feels her presence, but not in an overbearing way. Like a guardian angel.

"So, how've you been?" Kim asks. "Honestly."

He can't even try to lie to her of all people, not about this. "Not good."

"That's okay," Kim says. "You're okay."

Austin thanks her once more before going into the bathroom. With his head pounding, stomach swirling, Austin makes it to the shower, but doesn't manage to turn on the water before he vomits right by the drain. More liquid. Now that Kim mentioned it, he honestly doesn't remember the last time he had actual food to eat.

Groaning, Austin gets back to his feet and turns the shower on, letting it chase away the scent of alcohol. He starts to take off his leather jacket as he goes to his locker, but then he hears shuffling sounds and Austin sees some guy going through Max's locker. Austin raises his sunglasses and lets it perch atop his head, blinking to make sure he's seeing what he thinks he sees.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Who do you think you are?"

The guy in question turns to look at him, shocked for maybe a second, before scoffing and returning to his blasé state. "Of course, you wouldn't recognize me," he says.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm Nicky Russo," he says. Still isn't ringing a bell and Austin isn't afraid to let it show on his face. "Wow, it must be lonely at the top. Of course, Austin Tucker wouldn't bother to look at all the people he stepped on to get to the gold."

Just another pathetic, jealous stranger. Shit. If Austin had a dollar for every male gymnast who he beat and left bitter…

"Nicky Russo, huh? Nope. Drawing a blank," Austin says, marching over. "Listen, this is my friend's locker. Don't touch his things." When Nicky doesn't stop, grabbing a roll of tape and tossing it into a cardboard box, Austin isn't amused. He shoves the pale, dark-haired prick and slams Max's locker shut. "Goddamn. It's been _days_ and they already reassigned his locker? What kind of place is this? This is supposed to be home."

"This isn't a home," Nicky snarls. "It's a _gym_. You train here and at the end of the day you go home. End of story. Ultimately, these people around you are competing against you and you bet every other one of them is rooting for you to crash and burn. This so-called gym family, it's a façade. It isn't playful, sibling rivalry. It's the Olympics. Your success depends on the failure of others. Not exactly the definition of family. Get real, Tucker. This right here, _you_, keep it up and you are going to bomb at Worlds."

"See, your attitude right here, Mr. Bitter Loner Wasn't Held Enough as a Child, it sucks and that's the reason you never beat me. Good luck, keep it up, you never will."

Nicky narrows his eyes in a glare. "Thanks for the advice," he says sarcastically. "I'm done here anyways." Nicky sees the tape on the outside of the locker with _Spencer_ written on it in Sharpie. He scratches at the corner and rips it off, sending Austin into a blind rage. The former Olympian grabs Nicky by the wrist just as he crumbles the tape and squeezes hard. Despite the way he winces Austin shows no mercy, twisting his arm and slamming him back into the next row of lockers. Hard. Loud.

"Have some Goddamn respect!" Austin yells. His voice echoes even louder than the slam.

"Don't even touch me again," Nicky hisses lowly, shoving Austin off of him. After grabbing the cardboard box, Nicky starts to leave. He gets as far as the door before he turns back around, looks right at Austin and says, "You're sad, man. You're this broken up and you didn't even know him."

"Watch it," Austin barks, walking over to him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Max? Max Spencer? You didn't know him. Fact. He was so afraid of himself. Why do you think he hid behind a camera? Face it, man, just like his pictures, you only ever saw what Max wanted you to see. He was so in the dark about himself, how'd you expect him to show you who he really was?"

"No." Austin shakes his pounding head. "You don't know anything."

Nicky chuckles. "Wow, you're pathetic."

All this confusion swirls and it turns to anger that tingles in his curling fingers and explodes in his fists. Austin winds up, but right as he punches, Nicky puts his quick reflexes to use and moves out of the way. Austin's knuckles connect with the back of the door and waves of pain shoot up to his already heavy head. Instead of curling up into a ball, Austin dives to tackle Nicky and they both fly out of the locker room, the contents of the cardboard box spilling out onto the ground.

"What is going on? Austin! Nicky!"

It's Kaylie. Oh sweet Kaylie. The last person Austin wants to see right now. See him like this. A trainer and assistant coach rush in and separate the two boys. Kaylie stands between them, gripped by her concern, looking between two of the top male gymnasts in the country. The way she looks at him specifically, fear mixed with confusion mixed with disbelief. That's what separates them from the fairytales, especially the one he tried to build for her in her head.

At the end of the Disney movie, the beautiful girl kisses Beast and he changed into a prince. Well, Austin and Kaylie, they've kissed. Multiple times. And she's still looking at him like the time he punched the guy who knocked up Emily. Like she doesn't think he can change. She's right. He can't. See, in the story, the beast started out as a prince and turned into a beast. Austin, he's always been one, born into it by blood.

"Nicky, are you okay?" Kaylie asks. Flexing his wrists, he nods. "What happened?"

"I was cleaning out Max's locker and he just attacked me."

"Why were you touching Max's things in the first place?" Austin growls, cradling his arm. But of course, Kaylie doesn't think to ask or even wonder if he's okay. She's more concerned about the white boy without a scratch. "What right does this new guy have?"

"He's not new here. Nicky was here at the Rock even before you. He trained here even when we were kids," Kaylie corrects. "Austin, he's Max's cousin."

Oh.

"This was fun," Nicky says sarcastically, getting down on a knee so he can retrieve Max's belongings on the floor. "I can't wait until it comes time to clean out Max's room." Austin's face drops. No. What? "We dropped by your lake house last night," Nicky explains. "Me. My dad. Max's dad. But all the lights were out. We assumed you weren't home."

Kaylie gives him this look as if to ask, _where were you? _

"I, uh…Sasha says I should go so I should probably…go."

"Austin, wait a second," Kaylie says softly.

"Yeah, man, you should probably get that hand checked out," Nicky says. "Wouldn't want anything bad to happen with Worlds, oh, at the end of the week. I doubt you broke it or anything. Wasn't even a sucker punch. More like a bitch move."

Kaylie's eyes widen. "You tried to punch him? After what happened with Damon? Austin—"

The adult faculty, who'd been watching this entire interaction, intrigued, trade looks and are about to step in again.

"But this time, it wasn't about _you_, Kaylie," Austin interrupts. He looks right at her. Her and her innocent. So beautiful and so afraid. Afraid of him. "It was about Max."

No one says a word. Austin spots Sasha over by the vault. Their eyes connect and Austin knows he has to be gone before Sasha has the chance to walk over. "I'm out of here."

"Austin…"

Ignoring whatever plea she's about to make, Austin turns away and heads straight for the door. Once outside, he takes a deep breath, but it doesn't help. He feels the anger in his fingertips, in his feet, his lungs, needing to kick or punch or scream. He ends up kicking the gravel in the parking lot and mumbling angrily to himself and repeatedly clenching and unclenching hi hands. He doesn't know where to go. He doesn't know where to call home.

"Austin?"

No fear in her voice. Not even concern, but curiosity. Not Kaylie. Payson.

Turning to face her, Austin is clearly embarrassed. Payson doesn't comment. She doesn't say anything at all. She just takes a few steps closer and holds out a sandwich in a plastic Ziploc bag. He wants to hug her or something, hold her, say something, whisper, "I didn't know him either," but all Austin manages to do is take the sandwich, quietly thank her and take off.

…

"Wow, I can officially say you have exceptional taste in guys," Nicky teases. Kaylie shakes her head at him and he smiles even they both know, sarcasm or not, he does mean it. Even Kaylie for the life of her can't understand why she lets the bad ones in and the good ones go.

She's standing with Nicky by the door, done for the day. He's right about to leave too, the box of Max's personal items tucked under his arm. Nicky stops for a moment and gazes out to the center of the gym. Payson is still out on the mat, perfecting her floor routine. Kaylie remembers how Nicky would always look at Payson—dreamy with admiration—but now he just looks saddened and worried. "So, I tried to talk to Payson earlier and she blew me off. I take it she isn't doing too well?"

"Not at all," Kaylie answers, just as concerned about her friend. "Max wasn't here for very long, but Payson and him got really close. She's more of a _silently_ ticking time bomb than Austin, though."

"Poor Pay," Nicky mutters. He then turns to weakly smile at Kaylie again. "So much for Payson liking me. Thanks for telling me that. Really, I appreciate that, Princess."

Kaylie looks down, begging herself not to do something stupid—like blush. She almost forgot what it was like to have Nicky around. Nicky and those butterfly feelings.

"Okay, fine. I make bad judgment calls," she confesses. "There. Happy?"

"Real progress," Nicky says playfully. He doesn't even try to fight a smile the way Kaylie does, but he does shyly avoid looking at her, his attention drawn to another part of the gym. Nicky nods and Kaylie follows his line of sight right to Kelly Parker, looking at them, but then quickly looking away. "And what's with that?"

"Oh, you mean Stalker Parker?" Kaylie says bitterly, crossing her arms. "She just, oh, tried to blackmail me. It blew up in her face and now she expects us to just be friends after she tried to ruin my reputation, my career and my life all in one move. Now she just gives me these puppy dog eyes across the gym. You learn to ignore it. I know I have."

"Oh, just blackmail. You know, typical Rock behavior."

"Oh, totally." Kaylie laughs. She smoothes her hair down and meets his dark, tired eyes. "Anyways, it was really nice seeing you again, Nicky. The circumstances couldn't be any worse…"

"Yeah, no kidding. This is the last thing I need on my plate right now and to make things worse, everything with my family is just a mess," Nicky says, rubbing his hand down his face. "We're supposed to be leaving for Worlds, but they want me to fly back to New York for the funeral—"

"Wait, what? New York?"

"Yes?" Nicky says slowly, confused by her confusion apparently. "That's where Max is from. That's where all our family is from. Well, Sicily, Italy, to be exact, but then immigrated to New York. Did Max never…?"

Kaylie shrugs. She's the last person to be asking. "We weren't real close. Actually, we never talked at all."

"Doesn't really surprise me with Max," Nicky says. "Yeah, he was born and raised in New York City, but then he went to train in Texas for a little while and then he was supposed to join me in Denver just as I committed to Dallas and I guess he ended up here."

"So gym hopping just runs in your blood then?"

"Haha," Nicky says dryly. He looks at her and smiles and it makes Kaylie smile back, happy to add a little lightness to such a heavy situation on his shoulders. "Well, at least your sense of humor improved since I was last here."

"Wow, a compliment from Nicky Russo?" she says, knowingly ignoring his sarcasm. "But, no, seriously, your family's flying his body to New York?"

"Yeah, you didn't think they'd bury him here, did you?"

"I didn't really think about it. I don't know if any of us did," she admits. "All I know is Austin and Payson are going to go ballistic when they find out they won't be able to say goodbye. And Lo, she just got out of the hospital today. I don't even want to try to imagine how she's going to react."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not the one making the decisions here," Nicky says. Kaylie frowns. When she catches herself, she's a little upset because what right does she have? She's standing here with Max's cousin, someone with one of the most direct links to him. Right as Kaylie's about to apologize, Nicky tenderly touches the back of her hand. "But I'll, uh, I'll see what I can do. Austin Tucker tried to kill me in a locker room over him. God knows Max was loved more here than he ever was in New York, especially by the family…"

"What do you mean?"

"Um, nothing," Nicky says quickly. His fingers fall away from her hand and he shifts awkwardly, shuffling the box from under one arm to the other. "Forget I said that last part. I didn't even realize…I should probably get going. They're probably wondering what took me so long…"

"Don't be a stranger," Kaylie says. "I know we lost touch, but…"

"If things go my way, I'll be on a plane with you to Rio," he says, more hopeful than confident.

Kaylie nods. "I'm counting on it. And if you need someone…"

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Before he walks out the doors, Kaylie boldly moves towards him and hugs him. She's been extra cautious of being too close to people. Back when she was hiding her disease and even after rehab. There's always that underlying fear that they can feel her protruding bones and they'd just know and judge her. But with Nicky, it looked like he really needed it so she went for it. Kaylie breathes a little easier when his slides his free arm to her lower back and hugs her in return. When they move away, thy share one last goodbye and Nicky leaves.

"So," a voice calls out to her. Kaylie grimaces. A moment ruined by Kelly Parker. She can't say she's surprised. "This mean the whole Kaylicky rumor wasn't just a massive lie after all?"

Kaylie hears it in her annoying voice, how she's still trying to get under her skin. Without responding, Kaylie walks back over to her real friend, Payson, trying to sort out her thoughts before actually trying to talk to the blonde. Should she ask Payson if she wants to go with her to see Lauren first or tell her about what the family plans to do with Max's body? Though Kaylie wasn't ever close to him, even she feels the ripple effect that threatens make the Rock crumble.

Before she reaches Payson, doing her floor routine for the tenth time in the last hour, Kaylie's phone suddenly rings. When she sees it's Austin's cell calling, Kaylie quickly ducks into the hallway, where Sasha can't catch her on her phone.

"Hey," Kaylie answers it. "Did you calm down enough to be able to express yourself without using your fists?"

"Hello?" It's a female voice. Kaylie pauses, confused. "Hi. You don't know me and I don't know you, but I was with—Austin, you said—last night and I have his phone. I figure since you left him a cray number of missed calls and voicemails, you obvis care about him and could help me get it back to him the easiest. Boy, he was a mess last night. He kept trying to drunk dial some girl named Payson? Over and over, he kept saying _Payson's gotta know the truth, she's gotta, hey, are you a real ginger?_ So, I thought it'd be best for everyone if I got him away from the booze and technology at that point."

"Oh, okay," Kaylie says, not really knowing what to say to that. "Um, where was he last night?"

"Um, that's probably something you should ask him yourself."

"I just saw him earlier," Kaylie says flatly. "I doubt he even knows."

"Good point. Well, we met at this frat party. I'm a Delta Gamma at CU Boulder."

Of course, he was at a party, getting wasted with a sorority girl. Kaylie shakes her head.

"And who are you?"

"Faith. Faith Giancana."

* * *

><p><span>AN: Poor Austin. Dunno where this Kaylicky scene came from like, at all and then, bam, Faith Giancana! Unplanned. She just snuck right in. I know I said Max's family would show up, but now I can promise they will for sure in the next chapter in what may be the most awkward dinner ever.

**Review Replies**

(I was way too lazy to send them out individually, but I do want you to know I love y'all and hear everything you're saying!)

**P-N-F**: LOL. Remember October? What _is_ that? :P Not anytime soon, love, but, hey, look who snuck into this fic!

**Forever Written in the Stars**: I re-watched the scene too and I like to assume Lauren stopped in the middle of the intersection and then the other car smashes into them. As you'll see next chapter maybe, Max's dad is just out for blood in a general sense, trying to ensure someone pays. There's for sure Lauren/Austin bonding, but they're going to go through hell first,including the blame game. Along with how hotheaded they both are? It'll be fun.

**Livgraham**: You are so spot on with everything I'm trying to do here with Payson and Lauren and Nicky. Si! I have a great Lauren/Payson scene planned for when they finally come face to face. I'm hoping for this 'wow, he screwed with both of us, it hurts and we both miss him and that hurts too'. Definitely find some common ground for two super different girls. LoPayStin! I approve!

**LCTD**: Holy crap! You put in a formal request, review and all. Wow. You actually listened to me for a change.

Everyone, please REVIEW! This fic has like, no direction. I'm writing as I go and any suggestions or comments you have would be fantastic! XOXO


	4. Daddy Do Nothing

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It's probably more accurate to say this fandom owns me.

Warning: Dark; Language; AU

* * *

><p><strong>-BB-<strong>

**Stages of Disintegration **

**Ch. 4**

Kelly is a different kind of trophy daughter when it comes to her dad. Sheila always expects the full functioning Barbie complete with the sickeningly sweet pre-recorded voice, never allowed to disobey. Sheila gives orders and expects her daughter to carry through. With her father, a distinguished Mr. Alan Parker, all he expects is for Kelly to sit, quiet and pretty like a little doll in a case.

"So, your mom seemed to be in one of her moods," Alan tells her. Him behind the wheel of the sports car he bought after the divorce, Kelly in the front seat, smoothing the creases from her pretty dress. "I expected her to at least put up a fight when I asked if you'd come to dinner with me tonight. She seemed particularly venomous towards you. Anything I should know about?"

A returned journal. A broken spell. The silent treatment.

"Why do you care?" Kelly asks. "It's not like you'll take me from her. You don't want me to live with her, but you don't want me to live with you either. What's the point in pretending you care?"

"Kelly, don't make it sound like that," he says. "The only reason I'd rather you live with your mother is because I'm always working and I don't want you alone all the time. Of course, I want to know. You're still my daughter. I still care."

Translation: You're attached to the Parker name; therefore, I'm obligated to own up to you.

"Do they have a case?" Kelly questions. She brings them back to neutral ground, something impersonal that they can talk about. His area of expertise—the law. "Max's parents. That's why you're really back, right? The Russo family calls and you come running."

"They certainly aren't a family you mess with," he responds. "Like I told Don, I deal in criminal law, not so much DUI, injury law or whatever this is, but as a friend of the family, Don asked for my opinion, possibly a referral and I'm going to honor that. Generally, the family can bring a lawsuit against either or both the person driving the car Max was in and the person driving the other car. Any negligent driver can be sued when a passenger is injured. The key is the presence of any violation of traffic laws or lack of due care. From the details I've gotten so far, I'd assume fault will be apportioned by a judge jury as is common with cases like this."

An image of Lauren Tanner on the stand flashes in Kelly's head. Quickly followed by one of Lauren being hauled off by the bailiff, being made some dyke's bitch in a women's jail.

"Do you think they'll go through with it?" she asks.

Her father sighs. "Max's mom won't want to. Don says she's already broken up and no one can blame her, losing her son that way. And Malcolm, Max's father, he's just angry. Max was only nineteen. What's that? Three years older than you? I don't know what I'd do if you were in that car that night. It's not right. Parents having to burry their children."

Alan looks so choked up, orange highway lights illuminating his face for only seconds at a time as they drive. The scary part is that he looks like he means it. Kelly doesn't say anything else for the rest of the ride and neither does he.

The Russo Family always reminded Kelly of one of those old-school gangster movies with their pressed suits and their glasses of wine, that cool, air of detachment and obvious Italian descent. Kelly has met the family a number of times before, but only saw Nicky's grandparents once at his mother's funeral. She also knows (overheard from her parents) that his grandma passed away a few years back. She expects his grandpa to be there; flown out to stand by his family through the tragedy, sitting at the head of the table, but that isn't so.

The Russo family is compromised of three siblings and their children. There's Nicky's father, Donovan, Max's mother, Gina, and their oldest brother, Sal, who has four grown children of his own, all boys, one married with a child and the others in their late twenties. They're all gorgeous, strong-jawed and dark-haired. Then there's Malcolm Spencer, an Englishman, one of the biggest names in the advertisement world, never without a glass of scotch.

Kelly always remembers loud chatter and constantly teasing at the Russo table, but dinner is oddly quiet, other than the clang of silverware, the men and their small talk. The only time Kelly looks up from her plate is to politely answer a question or glance at Nicky. No one else at the table acknowledges him, not once. Nicky has always had this intensity about him and tonight, it radiates off him in waves. He keeps it all shelled up inside, building and building.

They get through almost an entire evening without talking about Max until time for dessert. They start to talk about their plans to ship the body back to New York and how they've already made arrangements with a funeral director there. Nicky loudly drops his fork against his plate, making heads turn.

"He has friends here, you know," Nicky speaks up. "They should at least get a chance to see him before you ship him home. At least do something for them. Give them some kind of closure."

Max's dad scowls. "Friends? You mean, friends who he was drinking with that night at that party. The girl who was driving, who stopped in the middle of an intersection, you're telling me she was his friend? Don't be ridiculous, Nicholas. He barely knew these Colorado kids. As far as I'm concerned, the sooner we get him away from this place, the better." Malcolm reaches over and takes his wife's hand. "We're bringing our boy home. He'll be back with the family."

"Family," Nicky says with disgust. "He isn't even getting one of the Russo plots. Grandpa bought out the whole north side of the hill to keep the family together so why aren't we burying Max next to grandma? Uncle Mal, you had to buy Max a plot on the other side of the cemetery. My mom is closer to grandma and she wasn't blood or Italian. Max was both. Why won't grandpa let us burry Max with the rest of the family?"

"My God, Nicky," Sal says in a deep, terrifying voice. "Donovan, do you hear your kid right now, at the dinner table? For Christ's sake, Don, control your son."

"Nicky," his father calls to him. "Enough."

"You people can't even talk about it," Nicky says venomously. "That's just sad."

"You don't get to talk," Malcolm says angrily. His wife squeezes his hand, begging him not to, but the rage is all consuming. "The only reason you're acting out is because of your stupid gymnastics. Grow up, Nicholas. My son is death and it's just an inconvenience to you, isn't it? Your cousin is dead and you just want to roll him into the nearest hole so you can go on with your own life. Not only is that selfish, it's shameful."

The silence suffocates, sucks the oxygen out of the room. No one even takes a breath. How could they?

Nicky looks up, darkly. "At least I accepted Max when he was alive. You're still denying who he was and he's dead."

There's practically cartoon steam coming out of Malcolm's ears, but before he can say anything, Nicky throws his chair back and walks out of the room. The dinner room is less suffocating, but extremely awkward as Gina wipes at her tears and the men distribute another round of alcohol. Kelly quietly excuses herself and follows after Nicky, watching him grab his keys.

"I can't be here," Nicky tells her tightly. He grabs Kelly's coat from the rack and holds it out to her—an invitation. Kelly slowly walks to Nicky and turns around, letting him help her slip it on. He leads her out to the garage and tosses her the keys, which she scrambles to catch. Nicky goes around to the passenger side while Kelly stands there, confused.

"You want me to drive?"

"No. I just gave you the keys to hold," he sarcastically snipes. She narrows her eyes, not liking his tone, and after rubbing his hand down his face, Nicky gives a heavy sigh. He goes back around and yanks on the driver's side door, motioning her inside. "The way I am right now, where my head's at, I can't get behind the wheel if you're in the car with me. It's one thing to do something stupid on my own. I won't knowingly drag you into it. Please drive, Parks?"

There's something so considerate about that, way more than she'd expect from Nicky Russo, but there's also something scary lurking beneath his words. What if she wasn't going to be in the car with him? Would he be driving as they speak? Where would he end up?

"Fine," Kelly says, hopping into his SUV. "But only because you actually said _please_." Kelly pulls the seatbelt across her chest and waits for Nicky to get into the seat beside her. "Where are we going?"

"Just drive."

"Nick, I can't drive if I don't know where to."

"Kelly, just please. Don't. I can't right now. Just, anywhere you want," he says. She adjusts the seat and starts the engine. As an afterthought, Nicky adds, "Somewhere far."

Nodding, Kelly drives away from the Victorian house, past the gate and out into the street. She quickly finds the highway and heads out of Boulder. For a long time they don't say anything. Kelly glances over at him from time to time, but his expression is so far away, practically in another world. She doesn't even try to read him. She just waits.

There are these layers to Nicky Russo. Layers of cold, shiny metal similar to her own layers (except Kelly's is made of plastic laid over stone) and Nicky tries to come off as this cold, precise robot with the metal casing to prove it. However, since he's been back, Kelly has noticed his armor starting to deteriorate. A little at the coffee shop. At the Rock. At dinner. Now. He'll weaken till he goes haywire.

Kelly can't go into why, but she wants someone to be there for him. She wants to be that someone. Like she'd want someone to be there for her. It isn't an expectation. They're barely even friends. It's more of a want and maybe a wish.

"I love my family, I do," he finally says. "But fuck do they make me angry." Nicky leans forward and pulls open the glove compartment. He grabs a little orange bottle, slides out a little pill. He reaches for a bottle in the holder, tosses back the pill and takes a swig of water. Kelly wants to ask what that is, but she doesn't. "Where are we going?" he suddenly asks.

Kelly laughs. "You're seriously asking me that right now? I have no fucking idea."

"Good," Nicky says. She can't tell if he's amused that they're going nowhere fast or that she swore. Kelly's mom would always remind her foul language wasn't lady-like and so as kids, Nicky did everything he could to try to make her.

After fighting with his seatbelt, Nicky kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his dress shirt, carelessly tossing it into the backseat, only wearing this tight white wifebeater underneath. Grinding her teeth, Kelly admires his sculpted gymnast arms for a second before her eyes return to the road. Sighing, Nicky repositions himself, lying on his side to face her and tucking his arms beneath his head like a pillow. Every time Kelly glances over, his eyes are closed.

"Is your favorite Disney movie still Aladdin?" Nicky asks.

Kelly hasn't thought about Aladdin in a long time. "I guess. How do you even remember that?"

"How could I forget? Remember, our parents would have those excruciating dinner things? They paled in comparison to tonight, but they were still horrible. Your mom and my dad would argue afterwards because she wanted to be my manager. Meanwhile, you and me, we'd watch Disney movies."

"With the volume pushed to the—" Kelly stops herself from finishing that. "Loud. To drown out them arguing." She inwardly curses and readjusts her sweaty palms against the steering wheel. "Too bad my mom got rid of my VHS collection. It was pretty badass."

"It was," Nicky agrees. "We watched Aladdin at least a hundred times." Nicky must have opened his eyes because she feels him looking at her. "I remember you told me Aladdin was your favorite because you liked watching the sheltered girl run away from the palace and see what's on the outside. And that when we grew up you were going to do the same."

Even at an early age, Kelly knew her mom purposefully steered her away from a normal life, instead always keeping her at home or in the gym, minimal contact with potential influences that might tell her there's more to the world than gymnastics. But Kelly knew anyways. How could she not? She's always identified with Jasmine in that way—stubborn, headstrong, sheltered. It's a little sad, but true nonetheless.

"Remember what I use to tell you?"

With how long ago this happened, Kelly wouldn't expect to remember, but she does.

"That when you found a magic carpet, I'd be the first one you called."

"Wow, you remember," he says quietly, like he's genuinely surprised. "I don't know. My car isn't much of a magic carpet, but it'll have to do…then, of course, you'd tell me I'm not cute enough to play Aladdin." They share a laugh, but when the silence follows, Kelly feels him getting farther and farther away without ever moving. "Max, he, uh, he liked Oliver and Company."

"That's the one with the kitten and the stray dogs and the hobo, right?"

"Right. I remember this one summer. Our parents drag us out to the Hamptons house for a wedding. I was irritable because I'd rather be in the gym. Max, he vows to teach me how to be fun. Failed, naturally, because Max's level of laidback was something I've only ever seen in him and, well, I'm me. I don't know. Anyways, we came across these stupid kids torturing this poor, old one-eyed cat. God, I've never seen Max lose his cool like that before. He scared them off and spent the rest of the summer taking care of the cat. I don't know. Sometimes I'd think he had an easier time connecting with animals than he did people. You'd get it if you spent more time around him…or maybe not. Max did like his secrets."

"You two were close, weren't you?"

Nicky shrugs. "We always kinda hung around each other at family things because everyone else was either a lot older than us or a lot younger, which, now that I think about it, was a lame reason. Max could be such an asshole. I remember he'd always call me Bambi."

Because of his mom.

"That's horrible," Kelly says firmly.

"Yeah, it sort of is." Nicky chuckles. "So, why haven't you asked me yet?"

"Asked you what?"

"About what we were talking about back at the house."

Simple: she doesn't want to know. But knowing must be apart of being someone's someone because even in the dark, she can feel how desperate he is to open up, to let it out into the world, to tell someone so it'll stop eating him alive.

"Do you want me to ask you?"

Nicky loudly exhales. "I haven't planned that far ahead yet. This, hanging out with you, just me being here, losing Max…none of this is apart of the plan. I—I'm still trying to figure it out."

Car sounds aside, the silence filters in, mixed with tension. He's so wound up. She can feel it. It makes her antsy. "Nick," Kelly says softly. "If you want to cry…just cry. There's nothing wrong with it. I…I cry. Sometimes."

Nicky shifts and looks at her in this way that's so full of respect, like he acknowledges how hard it was for her to admit that, especially to him.

"Thanks, but Russo men don't cry," he whispers hoarsely. Nicky reclines the seat a little and curls up the best he can. "I'm just…I'm gonna close my eyes. You just keep driving."

"I still have no idea where we're going," Kelly reminds him.

"Perfect."

…

After the whirlwind situation her mother put her in, leaving her a helpless child, Lauren has always made sure to have a choice in everything that happened to her after. As a little girl, if she didn't want to wear the pink dress, she could easily say so and Steve would let her wear the red one. She wanted to commit fully to gymnastics and Steve said okay, got her into the prestigious Rock. After leaving the hospital, all Lauren wants is to stay locked up in her room and Steve lets her. No questions asked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Lauren? You have a visitor…"

The door slowly creaks open. Light slowly leaks into her dark room. Creeping. Illuminating. Lauren doesn't move from where she is, beneath the sheets, motionless among pillows and an old stuffed unicorn, faded and missing a button eye. It's obvious she's had it for years and it's been through the spin cycle at least a dozen times. Lauren rounds her arms around it and shuts her eyes when the light snaps on.

"Daddy, if it's Summer, I swear…"

No. It isn't. When Lauren turns over to see who it is, it's her coach. It's Sasha.

Her first instinct is to straighten her hair that's in a high ponytail or fix the way her oversize t-shirt clings to her body, but she can't bring herself to. After all, Sasha has seen her at her worst, sweaty, showing way too much thigh for comfort and with no make-up on. It's almost like a piece of her, the piece of her that cared too much, got damaged in the accident. She just doesn't right now.

"Lauren," Sasha says. His voice is low and soothing. It's comforting; almost a lullaby without the attempt to sing, but Lauren can't enjoy it. She's too on edge. The way she betrayed him (and Payson) always creeping to the front of her mind. "How are you?"

"Tired."

"Understandable," Sasha says with a nod. "I know you've been going through a lot these last few days, but there are some things we need to talk about, concerning your gymnastics and specifically what we're going to do about Worlds."

Thinking about it just makes everything hurt. It reminds Lauren of all the homeschooling sessions she's racked up over the years, sitting as one of her tutors drew equations on the board, shapes and degrees and calculations. Lauren has never been a fan of math or school, more gymnastics and boys. This right now feels like that multiplied by a billion.

"Listen, if you aren't up for it, Tessa—"

"No," Lauren says sharply, disgusted at the idea of being replaced. It's something that's become her life. Her mom replaced her with drugs. Her dad replaces her with work. Max replaced her with Payson. "No, Sasha, the team needs me! I worked hard for my spot on the Worlds team. I can't not go. Please."

"Maybe you should have had that in mind when you got in that car with a boy this close to a major competition," Sasha shoots back. Lauren shoulders the sting because she knows he has a point. Sasha sighs. This is hard for him, she can tell. "Lauren, I don't mean to be cruel…"

"I know. It was my mistake."

Lauren believes that. Every word. Every syllable. Now Max is dead because of it.

"My beam routine is all I think about," Lauren lies. For the short periods where she's been conscious in the last couple days, all she does it replay events of that night in her head, from being at the party to getting into her car to the crash. But that isn't going to impress Sasha right now. That isn't going to get her to Rio. "When I was in the hospital. All day today. I haven't been able to practice it physically, but I have been visualizing it and feeling what my body would do if I were really practicing. I want this, Sasha. I can do it."

"That's more than I could ever ask for, considering you just got out of the hospital," Sasha says. "I don't want you pushing yourself before you're ready. You're unbelievably lucky to have walked away from that accident fairly unscathed, but the emotional and mental toll is something different entirely. Firstly, it's up to you what you want to do, but ultimately it's up to me. I need to get you in the gym as soon as possible and see where you're at."

"Don't you think that's a little much?" Steve asks. "The doctors said—"

"I'll be there tomorrow morning," Lauren says, cutting her father off. She looks right at her coach, sitting up tall in her bed, determined. "I won't disappoint you again, Sasha."

"Lauren," Steve says louder, authoritative even. "The doctors said you need rest."

"I can rest on the plane," Lauren assures him, like that's enough, like she doesn't know how ludicrous her reasoning is. Lauren knows she has to at least try. "Dad, I know my body better than those doctors do. I know what I'm capable of. I can do this."

Steve doesn't even hold out for long. He gives in like he always does, like she always expects him to. "Okay," he says. "But the minute you feel overwhelmed or don't feel up to it…"

"Thanks, daddy," Lauren says cheerily. That's a constant, getting her way when it comes to her dad. In a universe that always seems to be throwing her for a loop, that consistency is a comfort. "I'll be there bright and early tomorrow, Sasha."

"Looking forward to it," Sasha says. There's doubt in his eyes, but Lauren will prove him wrong. She has to. "For now, I want you to get a goodnight's rest."

"Absolutely," she says.

After bidding her goodnight, Steve says he'll show him out and the two men disappear. Waiting a minute after her bedroom door closes behind them, Lauren slowly slides out of bed, carefully putting weight on her feet when she stands. She's been in bed for so long, she has to go slow just to be cautious. Her neck is sore and so is her back, but no sprains or fractures. Going to her mirror, Lauren slowly lifts her shirt, inspecting the discoloration, black and blue and every shade in between. How is it she walked away with these mere souvenirs and Max didn't walk away at all?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Tonight it seems she's a popular girl.

Without tearing her eyes away from the door, Lauren smooths her shirt down down and calls out, "Come in."

Lauren stares deep at the girl staring back at her, distracted only when she sees Kaylie behind her, looking worried (and still incredibly thin) in her fitted black track jacket with a hot pink stripe down each arm. Lauren turns to face her and Kaylie immediately walks over, embracing her. Lauren takes a deep breath and hugs her back, suppressing a wince when Kaylie's bony limbs brush her bruises. Though their friendship constantly shifts from shattering to stable day-to-day, Kaylie always comes through for her and Lauren always tries to do the same.

"Before you ask how I am, I already heard it a million times in the last few days, I'm sick of it, and, yes, I feel like crap and know I look like it too," Lauren says honestly. Once they pull away from the hug, Lauren moves back over to lie in her bed and Kaylie follows, sitting up beside her. "I don't want to talk about the accident right now. I...I _can't_talk about Max. There. Moving on. Tell me something I don't know."

Kaylie nods, respects Lauren's wishes and gently squeezes her arm.

"Well," Kaylie says. "Did you hear that Nicky Russo is back in town?"

Cortisone boy. Lauren didn't expect him to show his face in Boulder anytime soon. Or ever again.

"Why?"

"He's Max's cousin," Kaylie says quietly. Lauren pulls her unicorn closer to her and hugs it tight to her chest. It makes her realize how she doesn't know anything about Max's family. There's so much she doesn't know about him in general. "Nicky, he, uh, he's back to take care of all of Max's things and stuff. He got a lot cuter since the last time he was here." Lauren takes in Kaylie's little attempt at humor, trying to cheer her up, but the blonde just rolls her eyes. "What? Lo, I'm kidding."

"Uh-huh. Sure sounds like you're kidding. Whatever you say, Kay," Lauren says with playful sarcasm. She likes this. Maybe assimilating back into the real world, away from her darkness, won't be as painful as she originally anticipated. "If I'm not mistaken, isn't Austin Tucker your boy of the moment?"

"If you asked me a few days ago, I'd say yes, but now, I have no idea. As we speak, he's going to CU to pick up his cell phone that he left in a _sorority house_," Kaylie says, letting on that it bugs her and how she's helpless to the situation. "I'm worried about him. He showed up to the Rock, hungover, tried to kill Nicky when he was trying to clean out Max's locker. I want to help, but he wouldn't let me even if I tried…"

The little details distract Lauren. Nicky cleaned out Max's locker. That means, when she goes to the Rock in the morning, it'll be like Max was never even there.

"Lo…?"

"Sorry, what?" she says quickly.

"I ran into Sasha. He was leaving just as I got here," Kaylie says. They're on a completely different topic. Has Kaylie been talking this entire time? How long did she zone her out for? "Did he say anything about Worlds?"

"I'm going, as planned," Lauren says confidently. Kaylie looks at her wearily and Lauren gives her arm a squeeze of reassurance. "Kaylie, I'm fine. The country needs their Queen of the Beam and I don't plan to disappoint."

"And I'll be with you every step of the way," Kaylie assures her. "Oh, by the way, Payson wanted to be here right now, to see how you were doing, but she…uh…got caught up doing something…"

Kaylie's always been a poor liar. Lauren doesn't even have the energy to call her out on it.

"How is she?" Lauren asks. Curious, if anything. "Payson. How's she dealing?"

"Not as good as she wants everyone to believe," Kaylie replies. "I'm worried about her too. All of you."

And that's what makes Kaylie a good leader, how concerned she is about everyone, wanting to play shepherd to the loss little sheep. Lauren hasn't thought about Payson once in the last few days and she isn't sorry about it either.

"Kay, would your parents freak if I asked you to stay over tonight?" Lauren asks.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Kaylie says with a soft smile. "I already talked to them and packed a bag just incase."

Lauren extends one arm and Kaylie takes the cue, moving in to hug her. Despite their ups and downs (and they've had _a lot_ of ups and downs) Lauren knows she'll always have Kaylie. As they both try to get some sleep in anticipation of the rough days ahead, Lauren realizes it's nice to not have to spend another night alone in the dark.

* * *

><p><span>AN: What do you think of Max and Nicky's family? If you think that's bad, wait till they meet Austin and Lauren. There's a really, really good chance there'll be a strip club next chapter and more from Austin/Payson…but those two things aren't related. At least, I don't think.

Reviews are greatly appreciated! xoxo


	5. Off to See the Wizard

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It's probably more accurate to say this fandom owns me.

Warning: Dark; Language; AU

* * *

><p><strong>-BB-<strong>

**Stages of Disintegration **

**Ch. 5**

It's a sorority house. Austin imagined ABBA on loop, playing throughout the house, girls in short shorts giggling and running around like one giant sleepover, wine coolers and pillow feathers included. Instead, the old house with the white pillars is oddly quiet; the lights are all on, but activity appears minimal. Austin peeks into what appears to be a dinning room containing a large table where a group of girls are sitting with books all open, papers scattered, calculators and pencils out. This is totally killing the dream.

"Can I help you?" a pushy voice asks. Austin straightens and notices a curly-haired blonde giving him the evil eye, arms crossed over her chest. She's tall, nearly his height, has to be the killer heels she's wearing. "What do you think you're doing here exactly?"

"I—uh—"

"Naomi, it's cool," says another girl with pin-straight auburn hair. "He was here the other night, remember? The one who followed Faith home after Jordan's birthday party."

"Honest to God, what is wrong with that girl? He could be a serial killer or a rapist for all we know," Naomi says, loudly, as if Austin isn't standing right there. "I don't understand what she gets out of it. Faith doesn't even sleep with any of them. She needs to stop bringing strays home like this."

Austin's jaw clenches. Max was the same way, except his strays were of the canine variety.

The second girl glances over at Austin and lowers her voice even though he can still hear. "Yeah, but he was crying and stuff and you know how Faith is a sucker for that type."

"God. Fine. Go get her so she can clean up her mess."

The second girl scurries up the stairs while the first continues to give him a hard stare, like a guard dog off its chain. Austin forces a big, innocent smile just to spite her. The chick is so uptight. She needs to take a vacation or get laid or something. Seriously.

"Hey. I was beginning to think I wasn't going to see you ever again."

Austin turns towards the stairs and sees a petite girl with pale, porcelain skin and glossy strawberry blonde hair pouring down her shoulders. She's on the short side, not Austin's usual, tall, curvy and exotic type, but she's cute. He can't help, but laugh a little when he sees the blue and orange jersey she's wearing, marked with the number fifteen in bold white letters across the chest. The girl is a Broncos fan, specifically a Tebow fan. She raises an eyebrow and Austin shakes his head to assure her he means no offense.

"It took me a while to figure out which house was yours," Austin explains. "I couldn't exactly call since you have my cell phone and I couldn't very well go up to every single house and ask if I was there the other night, passed out on the kitchen floor."

"Faith," Naomi says promptly, drawing the girl's attention away from Austin. "I think it's best if you take this outside. Some of the girls are trying to study."

"Oh sure, I wouldn't dream of interrupting study time. You bet, Naomi," she says with this playfulness that irritates the other girl yet amuses Austin. She has spunk. He's starting to see how he could have ended up following this girl around like a lost puppy. She walks towards the door and pulls on Austin's sleeve (with no sense of personal space, apparently) and drags him outside. "Was Nae a bitch to you? Sorry about her. House president. House bitch. Blah, blah, blah."

"No, it's fine," he says, standing with her out on the porch. "I'm Austin Tucker, by the way."

"Yeah, Kaylie told me. Sorry for outing where you were. Unless she's _really cool _I'm assuming your girlfriend didn't take it too well, finding out that you were partying at a frat house and then crashed at a sorority," she says with a wince.

"Actually, Kaylie, she, uh, she isn't my girlfriend," Austin corrects. There was a point where that was the one thing he wanted more than anything and that feeling was at its strongest at the sendoff party, but now, Austin doesn't know. She can't help him through this just like he couldn't help her through rehab. That's just the way things are.

"Oh, crap. My bad. So, Payson, then?"

"No. I don't really date. I am _Austin Tucker_."

"Yeah, you just said that. And I'm _Faith Giancana_," she says, putting the same emphasis on her name even though Austin is pretty sure she isn't an Olympic gymnast or the face of a multi-million dollar designer sunglasses brand.

"You really don't know me, do you?"

"No, but sorta." She purses her lips. "I know you surprisingly hold your liquor and you have this super power where you walk into a room of strangers and just make everyone love you. You've got a killer smile, but it does kind of a crap job at hiding how upset you are and it all has something to do with your best friend, Max?"

Damn, she's good. Who is this girl?

"I told you about Max?" he asks softly.

"You don't remember?"

"I blacked out and I tend to make an ass out of myself so I just want to apologize if I said anything offensive or told you too much, broke anything expensive or pulled out my cheesiest pick-up lines."

"You didn't. Hit on me, I mean, like at all. I don't think you were creeping on any of the girls. Just talking to anyone who'd listen about how much you wished you could forget…or maybe how much you wished you were a cartoon character, one of those, I had a few last night too," she tells him. Faith reaches into the back pocket of the baggy CU sweats she's wearing and holds the phone out to him. "Here. I put my number in and that's not a come on or anything. It sounds like you already have your hands full in _that_ department, but if you ever need to talk I'm always looking for reasons to avoid doing my readings for class."

"I'll keep that in mind," Austin says. "Thanks again."

Right as Austin turns to walk back down the pavement, back to Lolita, he hears her call out to him. "This is the last time I'm ever going to see you, isn't it?"

Austin turns back to face her, but still slowly starts to walk backwards, away from her. "I don't know. I guess we'll just leave it up to fate."

"Take care of yourself, Handsome." Faith gives him a reassuring smile and waves.

Austin gives her a nod and he thinks to wink at her, but turns back around before she can see it. When he walks back to his motorcycle, he finds a couple of guys standing around, admiring his ride. They start to talk and Austin turns on the charm. Talking turns into being invited back to an on-campus apartment, doing shots of cheap vodka (that's more like rubbing alcohol) and chasing it with coke, being cheered on by a ring of college kids. Austin doesn't know where he'll wake up in the morning, but he knows anywhere is better than going home to the lake house, haunted by memories and no booze left to numb him.

…

Just closing his eyes while Kelly drives somehow turns into the first whole hour of uninterrupted sleep he's had since Dallas. When he opens his eyes, the first thing Nicky sees is Kelly, busy on her phone. She fucked with the radio stations because this isn't what he usually listens to (he likes this a lot better) and it's mostly dark out other than the glow of the light overhead and the piercing flashes of a neon green sign on the building they're parked near.

"Where are we?" Nicky asks groggily.

"Only one of Denver's finest strip clubs," Kelly replies. The screen of her phone goes dark and she turns to look at him. "It's called Envy, though if they were going for a play on the seven deadly sins, I'd say they chose wrong."

"I tell you to go anywhere you want and we end up at a strip club?"

"It just so happens to be Marty's latest headquarters. I drove by his apartment, but his car was gone and I had a hunch he'd be here. Low and behold, his car is parked over there," Kelly explains. "I know you're agonizing over whether to go back to New York for the funeral or to Worlds with us and I thought you could use a little clarity."

"And you think Marty is the right one to give me this clarity? In a strip club?" Nicky asks. Kelly gives him a _duh_ expression, illuminated by the screen of her phone and Nicky laughs. "The wizard of Oz could probably do more for me."

"That's kind of what Marty is. Anyways, I bet he'll be happy to see you. He did nearly cry when you left," she teases. It's a lie, but it makes him somewhat smile anyways. Kelly stretches and grabs Nicky's shirt from the backseat, throwing it at him.

"It's a strip club and you want me to cover up?"

"Duh. Unless you're a whore."

"Don't be mean, Kelly. They're just as much athletes as you," he jokes, amused by Kelly's disgusted reaction. Nicky was ready to combust an hour ago, but now he's back down, grounded, calm. It worries Kelly, he can see it, but she won't ask and Nicky's yet to decide if he likes that or not. After buttoning his shirt up, Nicky reaches for the door handle, but pauses when he sees Kelly back to playing with her phone. "Are you not coming with?"

She looks at him like he's stupid. It's oddly endearing coming from her. "I'm sixteen. Plus, the last thing I want to see is horny, nasty guys pay girls to dance on them, especially when one of those horny, nasty guys is my coach. And, fyi, grinding on a pole isn't a sport. Source of income, hobby, sure, but as a real athlete, I'm offended."

Of everything she just said, the one thing that makes him smile is that Kelly still considers Marty her coach even if she's currently at the Rock. "Okay," he says, getting out of the car. "Lock the doors, will you? The last thing we need is you getting carjacked. This car is what I missed most about Colorado."

"Touching," Kelly says sarcastically. Nicky slams the door after him and takes a moment to straighten his shirt, not leaving until he hears the click of Kelly locking the doors. He's about to walk away, but then stops and taps on the window.

"Wait, could you spot me a few dollar bills?"

She gives him that look again, the _Nicky Russo, you're stupid_, and he smiles at her. Nicky doesn't really know why he's hanging out with Kelly Parker. Up until a few days ago, he wasn't even sure if he liked Kelly Parker. Slowly, he's coming to the realization that she's okay. She's different from what he remembers of the DE dictator, but he can also still see bits and pieces of that little girl who'd squeeze his hand every time they'd watch Mulan and the imperial army come across that obliterated town. Though Kelly definitely realizes it's a possibility, she doesn't treat him like he's broken or that his opinion doesn't matter. She's being a friend and that's awesome. Plus, she's kind of nice to look at, but that's totally beside the point.

The bouncer checks his I.D. at the door and charges him twenty bucks, which Nicky thinks is a total rip-off since he's here for a conversation and not the show. He isn't even old enough to drink and the bouncer reminds him of this, letting him through after paying. He's only been eighteen for a couple months now and this is the first time he's ever stepped foot in a strip club. Apparently, there's a first for everything.

Once inside, Nicky tries to keep his head down and navigates the dimly lit, smoky room in search of his old coach. When he finds him, he doesn't have a girl dancing on him (thank God), just with a drink in hand, staring, mesmerized by a scantily clad girl on stage, doing some unimaginable things with her body upside down on a pole. _Whoa_.

Tilting his chin down even further and hoping the low lighting hides the heat of his face, Nicky quickly goes over to the head coach of Denver Elite. "Marty, you gotta tell me to go to Rio."

Marty quickly sits up, alarmed. "Russo? Kid, what are you doing here?"

"Tell me to go to Rio," Nicky says again, moving to stand in front of the retired gymnast, blocking his view of the stripper and the pole. "Everyone is telling me not to, that I have an obligation to my family, to be there for Max's funeral. Is it so wrong that I'd rather go to Worlds? Does that make me a bad person?"

"Nicky, maybe we should—"

"I can't," Nicky says. His voice cracks and he doesn't even care. "All they're going to do in New York is put me in a suit and remind me to take my pills, tell me to shut up and stand there so we look like a family for the pictures. At least in Rio, I'll be doing something. Gymnastics. What I've worked for my entire life. None of that fake bullshit, which is the last thing Max would have wanted, but they don't care. I just…I don't know what to do."

Nicky takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. He feels so much, too much, but he doesn't know how to get it out, release it and free himself of it. Instead, he just pops a pill. Sedated. Suppressed. Calm.

"Well, sounds to me like you already made the decision," Marty points out.

"Mrs. Keeler booked me on their flight to Rio. I asked her to. But it's never too late to back out. If I scrap it, go back to New York, I'm sure my dad will take care of the bill," Nicky explains. He really is weary of the couch Marty is currently situated on, but sits next to him anyways. "But that doesn't make me feel like any less of a jackass, choosing my future over my family. Do you think I'm being selfish?"

Marty sighs, jingling the melting ice cubes in his glass. "I think you're being smart, independent. Most people are so obsessed with taking care of others and caring what other people think that they destroy themselves to make other people happy. You know what I see when I look at you? A kid who's smart enough to think to take care of himself first and strong enough to carry through."

Nicky sighs too, wishing he had a drink himself. Some wine would be nice right about now. His family is currently stockpiling it. "Let's be real. The team's a mess, isn't it?"

"You bet." Marty chuckles lowly. "Without Max, God bless him, that means Court McKane, the alternate kid from Georgia, is going to actually be competing. He just found out Monday. Austin Tucker, our number one, he wasn't much of a leader or even a team player to begin with and Sasha tells me he's far from ready. Truthfully, it'll be a miracle if team USA scrapes bronze in teams."

"Glad to know we have your support."

"Hey," Marty says warningly. "What was the first thing I said to you when you came to Denver?"

"No sugar-coated bullshit," Nicky says. "Drive and endurance. Determination and experience. DE."

"Damn right. You keep your head high and fight. No one said this was going to be easy. If you can manage to stay focused, you might just steal it all," Marty says, sipping his drink. "I really am sorry about your loss, kid. I only met your cousin that once at the exhibition in Denver and despite what I heard from my boys in Texas, Max seemed like a good kid."

"Thank you, coach," Nicky says. "By the way, I'm going to try to fit in as much training as I possibly can until when we leave for Brazil. I've already talked to Sasha and he agreed to let me use the Rock all day tomorrow. I figure maybe I can keep an eye on Tucker. I just thought you should know."

"Okay?" the older man says confusedly. "Why does it matter what I think? I'm not your coach anymore."

"Yeah, you kinda still are."

The flattery spreads across his lips in a smile and Marty clasps Nicky's shoulder in solidarity, comfort and encouragement. Nicky doesn't stay long. He starts to leave the moment Marty jokingly asks if he's ever had a lapdance before and as Nicky quickly walks to the door, Marty shouts after him, telling him to get some rest and good luck. Back out in the parking lot, Kelly asks him maybe a million questions, but Nicky just tells her to swap seats with him and that he'll explain on their way back to Boulder. He gets behind the wheel. He takes control.

…

Sometimes Payson really envies Phoebe.

Phoebe's just a dog. Payson takes her out running with her every morning and then Phoebe gets to just lounge around the house while everyone is out at work. The tiny dog's biggest concern in life is whether passing people are friend or foe and should be barked at or not. Though Phoebe has proven to be intelligent, is the able to comprehend that Max is never going to visit her ever again?

Sometimes, when Phoebe expectantly sits by the front door, Payson wonders if dogs are capable of realizing the absence or loss of someone. She wonders if Phoebe feels the ache that comes with realization. Payson has noticed that Phoebe whimpers whenever they're about to head out to the gym for the day and it makes her feel horrible for leaving the little dog alone. But does Phoebe actually miss Payson when she's gone? Or could it possibly be a case of out of sight, out of mind? When Phoebe sits by the door like that, is she waiting for Max or expecting to bark at the mailman?

"C'mere, you," Payson says softly. She scoops the little dog up into her arms and sits back, cuddling her. Phoebe is supposed to belong to Max and her. They're supposed to have joint custody and joint responsibility. Not anymore. "Hey girl, wanna go for a run?"

Phoebe barks, such an adorable, high-pitch sound and swipes her long, pink tongue across Payson's nose. The blonde laughs, a sound so foreign, even to herself. It surprises her, almost makes her gasp. She can't remember the last time she laughed. It feels like forever when the reality is it's only been days.

"Mom, I'm taking Phoebe out for a run," Payson calls out, getting up from the couch and grabbing the leather leash hanging nearby. Phoebe excitedly barks and shakes out her fur, already knowing what's happening even before Payson gets down on one knee to connect the leash and collar.

"Be safe," Kim calls back. "The weather report says it's going to be nice out today. Hey, instead of running through the park like you always do, why don't you head down lakeside?"

Down by the lake house. To check on Austin.

Payson doesn't understand why Kim is so insistent. Austin is full-grown. He can take care of himself. Just as she's about to convince her mom of this, Payson thinks back to Austin Tucker out in that parking lot, kicking and fuming. The darkness and bitterness has gotten to him, in him, trapped. He wants to let it go, he's desperate to, but he can't. Payson knows the feeling. Austin is just worse at hiding it.

"Maybe," Payson says in return. "I'll be back in a little."

Payson doesn't break out in a full sprint. She just needs a little movement to wake up and warm her muscles just to start her day. It also gives her some time, some space. The outdoors, fresh air and sunlight have always done that for her. Phoebe speeds ahead of her, small and fast, the metal tags on her collar jingling with every step. They usually run through the trails in the park, but Payson cuts down by the lake instead, knowing that if she goes to the park there'll be no one to meet her.

When she approaches the lake house, her heart thumps even louder in her chest and in her head. Payson doesn't know what she's going to say to Austin. He was the one other person (Payson can't even begin to consider Lauren in the running) who spent the most time with Max and knew him even better than she did. She's never lost someone under these circumstances before. It's all new territory.

There's an expensive car in the driveway, parked next to Austin's. Lolita is missing. Payson swipes the back of her hand across her forehead, wondering if Austin has company. There's a knocking sound, a fist against a door. Loud. Angry. The sound competes with the pounding of Payson's heart.

"Malcolm, I don't think he's home."

"He's never home when we drop by. Gina, something isn't right about that. His housemate dies and he's nowhere to be found?"

"Don't talk like that. Max wouldn't allow it."

A man and woman walk down the steps leading from the front door. They freeze when they see Payson and she does the same. The woman's dark hair and her dark eyes plus the man's distinct nose and broad shoulders mashed up, with the use of her imagination, almost immediately Max comes to mind. Phoebe breaks the silence with a bark, jumping up on her hind legs before falling back on all fours, breathing loudly.

"Hi," Payson says slowly. "Are you looking for Austin?"

"Yes, we are," the man replies. His eyes don't quite meet hers, staring higher, at her blonde hair. "I'm Malcolm and this is my wife, Gina. We're Max Spencer's parents. Did you…did you know our son?"

Payson feels her bottom lip start to tremble and presses her teeth together as if that would put an end to it. "I—I did. We were really good friends. I'm Payson. Payson Keeler."

Every time she drops her name in a gymnastics setting, it always elicits a reaction. They call her a lot of things. She's the girl who rose from the ashes, made a comeback and did so with grace and beauty. Payson would expect them to react similarly, but that isn't so. Bursting out in a fresh batch of tears, Max's mother immediately rushes over to her with open arms, immediately pulling her into a hug, leaving a confused Payson to stand there, watching what seems to be relief wash over Mr. Spencer's face.

"Payson," Mrs. Spencer says. She makes it sound like they're old friends or something and Payson can't even pretend this isn't completely weird for her. As the woman hugs her tight, Payson doesn't want to be rude so she just brings her hand up to pat the woman's back. She pulls back a moment later, laughing miserably through her tears. "Look at me. Pouncing on you. I'm such a mess."

"I really don't mind," Payson says.

Yes, Payson does mind. Yes, the woman is a mess. Fact.

But Payson was raised better than to point this out. Also fact.

"Max," the woman says, sniffling. She places her hand on her chest, over her heart, as if she can physically feel it break just at the sound of his name. "Max told us about you. He talked about you all the time."

"He did?" Payson gasps.

"He said such lovely things about you. He admired you. I don't think I've ever heard Max talk that way about any other girl before," Mrs. Spencer goes on. She laces her fingers as she if to try to keep them away from the blonde gymnast. Payson can't even begin to guess what praises Max had sung about her, what he could have possibly said to get his parents to look at her the way they're looking at her now.

"You gave us hope," Mr. Spencer adds. Payson turns his way and he almost looks like he wants to take it back, but powers through. "I mean to say, you gave him hope. Max. I could hear it in him every time we spoke and he mentioned you. You inspired him. With your gymnastics."

"He sent us the video of your floor routine," Mrs. Spencer says quickly. "You're a stunning athlete."

"Thank you."

Phoebe barks again, seeing all these people around her and wondering why they aren't paying any attention to her. Payson immediately bends down and picks up the little dog, holding her in her arms. Mrs. Spencer immediately smiles and reaches out to scratch Phoebe behind the ears. Payson smiles softly. That's where Max got his love for animals, she's sure.

"I'm happy Max was able to find some positive influence while he was here," Mr. Spencer says. "It really is a shame we weren't able to meet under better circumstances."

"I feel the same way," the blonde agrees, curling her arms around Phoebe as the little dog nuzzles her snout into Payson's neck. "I really am sorry for your loss. Max, he was one of the good ones."

Mrs. Spencer emits a low whimper and her husband rounds his arm around her. Payson didn't mean to make her sad. Then again, given the situation, it probably doesn't take much to set her off.

"Since Austin Tucker isn't here, this trip seems to have been a lost cause. We should be on our way. We, um, we have to go down to see the county registrar to see about that disposition permit, get our boy ready for transport back home," Mr. Spencer says with a sigh of frustration.

She tenses and Phoebe feels it, squirming out of Payson's arms and landing back on her paws. Payson gets lost to the memory for a moment, remembering Kaylie with her hesitation, telling her about the family's decision to ship Max's body bad to his hometown. She didn't argue or cry or fret. Payson just thanked Kaylie for telling her and got back to gymnastics.

"Mal's right. We should go," Mrs. Spencer says. "Payson, could we do anything for you? Give you a ride anywhere?"

She doesn't know where she gets the courage from, but it almost feels like running into the Spencers isn't just a coincidence. It happened for a reason and Payson isn't going to waste this opportunity.

"Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer, there's something I'd like to talk to you about…"

…

Lauren has done a number of questionable things in the past. Kaylie has stood by and shook her head, but never commented when Lauren would use her devious antics to manipulate and get her way. This is different. Kaylie doesn't know what to do about this. She doesn't even know what to think about this. In the eleven years that she's known Lauren, ever since the two started their gymnastics journey in beginners tumbling classes, Kaylie has never been afraid of Lauren. Then last night happened.

Though she had been half-asleep at the time, Kaylie can't forget waking up and finding herself alone in Lauren's bed, the sound of her bare feet against the cold tile floor as she searched for her friend, the smell of lighter fluid out in the backyard, the flames that kissed the sky and the whisper, "Kay, don't tell my dad."

Looking at Lauren now, early in the morning at the Rock, up on her beam, moving her body with these fierce, sharp motions as Sasha looks on, a critical expression on his face, Kaylie sees no resemblance to the girl from last night, a match in hand and fire in her eyes. No, literally. Fire reflected in her eyes. Lauren didn't even offer her any explanation, just that whisper and a command to go back to bed, forget any of that happened. But it did. It's troubling.

"Kaylie!"

Payson calling her name across the gym immediately pulls Kaylie out of her thoughts. Kaylie smiles softly, seeing her blonde friend running towards her, her long hair up in a ponytail bouncing behind her. It's nice to see Payson so active, so alive and almost happy.

"Hey, Pay, what's got you so worked up?"

"Great news! Since we're leaving for Worlds and they're bringing Max back to New York, I convinced Max's parents to schedule a last minute visitation for us so we can see him. Austin needs to be there. It might be our last chance to say goodbye," Payson says all in one breath. "Where's Austin? I need to tell him!"

"I don't know," Kaylie answers honestly. She can't help, but darkly add, "Maybe you should try all the CU sororities."

Payson stares back, innocently confused. "What? What's going on with you two?"

"I don't even know anymore," she says. Kaylie turns clammy every time she tries to call him, afraid a sorority girl (probably a different one from the last time) is going to answer all over again, but the last three times went to voicemail. Now she's just given up. He'll turn up when he wants to be found. "I don't know where he is. He hasn't been answering any of my calls. I don't even know if he got his phone back from _that girl_."

"Well, keep trying," the blonde says urgently. Of course Payson doesn't pick up on how Kaylie is dying to rant about her relationship falling apart before it can even come together. Bouncing like she can't keep still, not even for a second, Payson murmurs, "I need to go tell Sasha," and takes off.

As Kaylie watches Payson run over to their coach with the news, a curious Lauren joining in to hear, Kaylie crosses her fingers that hopefully this will mean healing for all of them and not just another reason to fall apart all over again.

* * *

><p><span>AN: Thanks for all the feedback! I'm really falling in love with this and I hope you are too. With the way Max's parents took to Payson, the contrast to how they react to Lauren and Austin in the next chapter…I haven't written it yet, but already I'm going for _explosive_ and _devastating_. I know I'm a total Nickelly slut, but Nicky's our gateway into Max's life other than what we've seen in Boulder and his girl's gonna be there for him, okay? :P God, Lauren and Austin. At least Payson is trying to keep it together. Those other two, well, you'll see…

_Reviews_ are my Red Bull. Leave me something to work with and updates will come faster! xoxo


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